Total Posts:7|Showing Posts:1-7
Jump to topic:

School-girl Outfit Contest in Retrospect

elysian85
Posts: 31
Add as Friend
Challenge to a Debate
Send a Message
8/29/2012 2:52:22 AM
Posted: 4 years ago
I was at a Hooters with the boys from work a few nights ago. We're a motley crew of personalities and characters. All in our twenties (spread fairly even across the spectrum between 20 and 29), all obnoxious and well-built for labor, all willing to engage in any order of profanity, and all quite capable of going to fisticuffs with the next table over if the need ever arose.

That being said, we always have a lot of fun when we go out.

This particular night, we noticed that all of the staff were wearing school-girl outfits. Interesting. And not long after our sitting down in this busy establishment - dinner hour - did the manager give us a responsibility which we had not anticipated: he asked us to judge the Hooters' girls for a contest in which the winner would receive $25.

As he began to grab us a sheet of paper to record our judgments on a 1 to 10 scale, I spoke up: "Ok, so what are the parameters for this contest?"

He made a face which I typically associate with deep thought.

"Pick the one you like the best," he replied.

And something occurred to me:

Hooters is probably the most brilliant business model for a restaurant, ever.

Think about it.

Take a sport's bar, get rid of the buff, dude bartenders in Tom Brady jerseys, and add busty girls in skin tight... well everything. Take the regular bar food menu, jack up the prices, and add some sexual innuendos to menu ordering (for those who've never been, one can get breaded or "naked" wings). Take the average 'score some chicks' mentality, insert a personal hot-girl-who-brings-everything-you-need-to-you-and-talks-to-you server, and add the psychological incentive that somehow, if one tips more, scoring a date is possible.

And, viola. You've got Hooters.

Now the night in question was not merely an exercise in corporate planning, nor was it a random occurrence. Quite the contrary: it offered me a curious perspective on superficiality in America.

Based on the above, one can derive a slew of academic conclusions, however, I would like to offer several that are more layman in nature:

1. Men, by and large, are desperate for positive attention from a beautiful woman.
2. Sex sells a lot of chicken wings and beer.
3. Bikini calendars are awesome marketing to men who meet the criteria in #1 and #2.
4. I am not most men.

Now, before I continue with this narrative (as it has an ending that surprised the hell out of me and I truly had no words once the consensus was reached), I want to know:

1. In a group situation, judging random strangers who would gain a prize by your involvement in the process and your well-being not being compromised by the outcome of your judgments, how would you go about rating these strangers? Or to use my words to the manager, what would your parameters be?

2. Given that there is only one prize and that all the rest of the contestants go home with only pride wounded (though I should think those girls would have pretty thick skin), how would you make a fair decision?

You show me yours, and I'll show you mine. That's the nature of this beast.

Narrative to be continued...
fabulist \FAB-yuh-list\ , noun:
1. A liar.
2. A person who invents or relates fables.

Elysian85's distorted and biased confabulations properly render his rhetoric formulation as entirely fabulistic in nature.

"Through counter-intelligence, it may be possible to pin-point potential trouble-makers and neutralize them... Wake up... Wake up... How long? Not long. 'Cause whatcha reap, is whatcha sow." - Zack de la Roche, certifiably insane (and making sense daily)
bossyburrito
Posts: 14,075
Add as Friend
Challenge to a Debate
Send a Message
8/29/2012 11:24:51 AM
Posted: 4 years ago
All I can think about when I see a Hooters is South Park.
I would turn down the opportunity to judge.
#UnbanTheMadman

"Some will sell their dreams for small desires
Or lose the race to rats
Get caught in ticking traps
And start to dream of somewhere
To relax their restless flight
Somewhere out of a memory of lighted streets on quiet nights..."

~ Rush
PARADIGM_L0ST
Posts: 6,958
Add as Friend
Challenge to a Debate
Send a Message
8/29/2012 12:55:37 PM
Posted: 4 years ago
I can't believe this much thought and effort went into a tongue-in-cheek thread like this.
"Have you ever considered suicide? If not, please do." -- Mouthwash (to Inferno)
Koopin
Posts: 12,090
Add as Friend
Challenge to a Debate
Send a Message
8/29/2012 2:17:59 PM
Posted: 4 years ago
At 8/29/2012 12:55:37 PM, PARADIGM_L0ST wrote:
I can't believe this much thought and effort went into a tongue-in-cheek thread like this.

LOL, I was thinking the exact same thing. It's like Charlesb when he was younger.
kfc
elysian85
Posts: 31
Add as Friend
Challenge to a Debate
Send a Message
8/30/2012 1:00:54 AM
Posted: 4 years ago
So, when we last left the narrative surrounding our roughneck judges and scantily clad contestants, the forum was presented with two questions:

1. What would your parameters be?
2. How would you reach a fair decision?


I also posited my shock in the outcome of the judging process contained within the scope of our narrative. There was also the opinion that Hooters may simply be the most brilliant restaurant chain in the American service industry.

However, as every worthwhile story provides an eventual twist to maintain efficacy, so will this one dutifully comply. And with that in regard, I must admit that I willfully committed a lie of omission in my original posting.

Oh, yes.

As the judging responsibility fell to our table, I omitted this significant detail: I had already made my choice based upon my own parameters before the opportunity to vote arose.

Scandalous.

Though, let's return, in medias res:

Of the men I work with, there were four plus myself present. However, our table held another occupant whose relationship was not based upon occupation: a girlfriend to my buddy whom it may also be an interesting detail to note had his identical twin also present.

Our panel is composed of six possible votes, each consisting of a 1 thru 10 value to be administered to each contestant and then averaged to find a final figure.

Given this, I looked to the group and said, "So, I say we vote based on the outfit. Amount of work put into it, nothing more."

A noticeably awkwardness pervaded the air.

One of the twins piped up, "Naw, hot or not."

There seemed to be a consensus as to this among the boys, so I looked to our lone female for her answer, "M., hot or not? Outfit?"

She smiled wryly, "Hot or not." With the consensus properly reached, I found my own verbal parameter overwhelmed by the majority and I was forced to concede.

But back up: if Hooters, as an establishment, is predicated on the superficiality of men to espouse extra dollars to be in the presence of hyper-sexual femininity while consuming beer, chicken, and sports, then doesn't it follow that a contest held within said establishment should operate under the same predicate? Basically, the hottest, flirtiest, and most revealing outfit should guarantee a win?

Let's find out.

With the proper form in place to judge, the four men at the table began to make obnoxious assertions to one another ranging from claims of their own mighty girth and sexual prowess, to deriding one another's abilities perform basic sexual procedures.

I am quite fond of the guys I work with.

Be that as it may, the contestants arrived, one by one.

Now, this is where things get peculiar:

Remember my earlier assertion that the metric to this contest should be the amount of overall work posited into each individual outfit?

The first girl, a curly-haired blonde with a healthy bust, stepped up. Of the twins, the one sans a companion took the master of ceremonies position and began to ask her a series of questions in a Miss America Pageant-stylization:

"How many states are there in the USA?"
"What's your hidden talent?"
"Which is more important: world peace or the end of world hunger?" Etc.

Each would be asked to spin. And following what could be observed by a third party as a deep rumination amongst the judges, numbers would begin to fly out as soon as the contestant had moved from earshot.

Curiously, I recall our fateful band of reluctant judges had decided on a single parameter: physical attributes irrespective of pageantry. Hot or not was the ultimatum.

What, it seemed to me, we are witnessing is a rudimentary form of democracy. Judgement arising from the gut. Yet, even as the rules were clearly established (i.e. Hot or not) a metamorphosis occurred when the actual human participant in the contest arrived.

Now, it seemed, the men on my crew (M., our lone female was mirthful throughout yet largely remained observant) had elected to gauge the contestants based upon their personalities and intelligence - neither on looks nor dress.

I must now be quite forthright: I had made my choice before I ordered my first Budweiser. Said choice was based, not upon dress, not upon personality, not upon intelligence, nor upon beauty alone. Nor did I even choose a stranger.

No, my choice was the raven-haired Brazilian server who served as an aggregate of all the qualities above. Also, it could be said that our relationship does not begin and end at the orange owl embroidered in the restaurant's welcome mat.

As I have never felt it necessary to openly reveal the activities nor interests I possess in a female to the public eye, I place a high premium upon discretion in relationships. In other words, if one of the two parties involved in one of my relationships wishes to reveal a mutual attraction to the world, I will not be the one to parade our involvement. If it is her wish to express affection openly, I will reluctantly agree - however, public displays of affection, to my mind, are grossly skewed in the department of attention.

What I'm saying is this: mind your own d@mn business when it comes to your love-life.

Anyway, as my choice came to the table, she immediately came up to my side began to paw me playfully. Given that my choosing her was eminent and that the proverbial cat was about to be out of the bag, I pulled her onto my lap and she affectionately stroked my shaved head.

At this point, everyone began to suspect, as the behavior seemed a bit out of place for two strangers, that something was afoot, as confirmed by their exchanging glances.

Before any questions could be asked, I leaned into her ear and said, "C., tell these gentlemen what your ethnicity is. They seem to think they know better."

She giggled and addressed the group, affirming that she was Brazilian.

Following this short exchange, I gently nudged her off my lap and sent her back to work.

Only several steps away, I declared, "10."

She glanced over her shoulder towards me with a glimmer in her eye and hustled off to grab a tray of food.

***

As it would end up, we would see something to the tune of ten servers that evening. Each would be judged, then rated, then averaged and recorded. The winner would receive $25.

Now. There were eleven servers in Hooters that evening. Meaning, one was never judged.

Who and why, one might wonder.

The 'who' answer is as follows: our own server was barred from participating.

The 'why' answer, however, was that it may affect the quality of service.

So. The forum now is abreast of the full situation. All facts, angles of relevance, and variables are now on the table.

When I posed my original two questions, a single answer was received that the poster would turn down the opportunity to judge. I will assume that by the respective silence of the rest of DDO who may have read through my posting that they are of a similar position.

I will now postpone the narrative just once more to reveal the epic conclusion to this curious social situation. Though before I do, in the spirit of the game "Clue," I ask you: who won the contest?

Narrative to be concluded...
fabulist \FAB-yuh-list\ , noun:
1. A liar.
2. A person who invents or relates fables.

Elysian85's distorted and biased confabulations properly render his rhetoric formulation as entirely fabulistic in nature.

"Through counter-intelligence, it may be possible to pin-point potential trouble-makers and neutralize them... Wake up... Wake up... How long? Not long. 'Cause whatcha reap, is whatcha sow." - Zack de la Roche, certifiably insane (and making sense daily)